


If You Lie Down With Dogs

by runbravelybackward (victorienne)



Series: If You Lie Down With Dogs [1]
Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Abuse, Animalistic, Captivity, Hurt/Comfort, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Rescue, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:39:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorienne/pseuds/runbravelybackward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cross-posted from <a href="http://homesmut.livejournal.com/17313.html?thread=35202721#t35202721">this kink meme prompt:</a></p><p> </p><p>  <i>Dave being forced into becoming a pet by someone's sadistic hand and becoming somewhat of a pet (possibly also an unwilling sex slave?). And then having John rescue him and deal with his friend's new (personality) broken mind, lack of language and being extremely jumpy and scared.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>Dave clinging to John as a lifeline and seeing him as a master rather than a friend/lover (Your choice on which route they go). nightmares and crawling into John's bed at night.</i></p><p> </p><p>(The noncon warning is for references to past noncon. No noncon will be depicted.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the quick intro chapter. The plot will pick up in the next part; I just needed to set the stage a bit first.

No one loves you.

No one wants you.

They told you that when they took you--and you have no reason not to believe them.

They've been good to you. They only beat you when you deserve it--and only once or twice every few days now. Your reward for being good is "play time" with someone who doesn't hurt you too much. You know that "play time" is actually work, but you like it anyway. It means that, if you were good, it will only be a little painful when they start getting rough. You don't protest, though, no matter how bad it feels. You know how much worse it will be if you make any sound at all.

You don't remember your life before this place--maybe you didn't have one. They didn't even give you a name out there. But here, they call you nice things, sometimes, in the heat of passion or when you've done something good or not cried out when they had to beat you.

This is your world. It always has been--and always will be. You like your masters sometimes. Since you started behaving, they've been good to you. As you lay in your kennel, curled up for to rest, one of them will bring you a dish with food and water. There are a couple who will even pat your head or talk to you soothingly when it's their turn to bring you something to eat. The nice ones have beaten you, too, sometimes. But that just means you definitely deserved the punishments you got.

You're bad and misbehave sometimes, but they keep you. They don't kick you out. They still feed you. You still have a towel in your kennel to keep you comfortable. You have no reason to leave. At least someone cares about you here.


	2. Chapter 2

You didn't mean to cry out. But you couldn't help it. Sometimes, you can't follow all your masters' rules, even though you always mean to. He went too hard this time, and you yelped. You wish you could apologize, but you can't remember how. They made you forget. Instead, he beat you, but you know what the real meaning of it is. You have to prove yourself again. You have to prove that you can take it. You have to prove that you're worth keeping around.

After you're black and blue, your back covered in raw welts, he throws you into your kennel by your collar. He's keeping you. You're safe. You don't have to go back to a world where you don't have a name, where you don't know how to survive. You're too weak to pick up your head and drink from your dish, but you'll get by. You shift as best you can to lie on your side, putting as little pressure on your bruises and welts as you can. You close your eyes and, though you're still shaking slightly, try to get to sleep.

What seems like moments later, you hear crashing and shouting from another room. You start to get up, but your right arm is still too weak to hold you up, and you collapse back to the floor. So you lie there, making sad, helpless noises until you hear the door behind you open. You don't want to roll over and put pressure on your back, so you wait until the person comes around to your cage door. A pair of legs come into view before you, and the kennel door immediately opens. Someone kneels down in front of the opening, and you hear a gasp.

"Dave?" a voice asks shakily.

You don't look to the person's face, but the voice isn't one of your masters'. The name he uses sounds familiar, as does his voice.

"Dave, look at me, please."

Assuming it's directed at you, you quickly obey the order, and your red eyes meet deep blue. A pang of recognition floods your mind, even though you can't remember ever having met this person before. But you know him.

He reaches for you with both hands--that's how they grab you when they're taking you somewhere you don't want to go. You whine and flinch away, scrambling toward the other side of your kennel. The dark-haired person pulls his hands back immediately, raising one to cover his mouth as he chokes back a sob. You look up at him, and you instantly feel guilty for not doing as he wanted. He doesn't look angry at all--he looks almost heartbroken. Using the bars of your cage, you pull yourself up and gradually work your way toward him. You hesitate a moment in front of the door of your kennel, but he just looks so sad. You have to comfort him. So you crawl through the opening and lean up to lick the back of his hand. He instantly flinches away, giving you a look of complete horror, and you scramble backward, shaking as you cower against the bars of your kennel. You squeeze your eyes closed, preparing yourself for the pain that's coming, but after a minute, nothing happens. Opening your eyes, you turn to look back at the person. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, and he's looking at you so sadly that, despite your fear, you have to try to comfort him again. This time, you crawl over slowly and hesitantly nuzzle his arm.

Suddenly, you feel something wrap around you, and you struggle for a moment before you realize that the person has wrapped his arms around you gently. He's putting as little pressure as he can on your back--almost like he noticed you were hurt, almost like he didn't want to hurt you more. You lean against him, his chest warm against your cold, naked skin. He reaches up to stroke your hair, and you shift to nestle into his arms comfortably, your head resting over his heart.

"You don't remember me, do you, Dave?" His voice is soft as he presses his lips against your hair. "It's John. I'm sorry it took me so long. I'm so, so sorry." He holds you a little too tightly, but you don't cry out. "I wish I could undo everything they did to you. I wish... Fuck, I guess it doesn't matter anymore what I wish. It's too late. I let you down. But I'm here. And I love you. And I'm not going to leave you ever again."

The words don't really make sense to you, but they make you feel warm inside. For a little while, you forget about everything except John. Everything except your new master.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *passes out blankets and tissues among tents*

After what seems like a pleasant eternity, John takes his arms from around you and holds you by the shoulders to push you back slightly. He looks at you again, and you look him in the eye for a few moments before remembering that you're not supposed to make eye contact with your masters. Your heart rate instinctively speeds up, and you tense, waiting for retribution. When, out of your peripheral vision, you see his hand coming toward your face, you flinch away. If it were one of your old masters, you wouldn't, but you don't know how harsh your new one will be.

But no strike comes. Instead, he takes his hand off your shoulder and pulls his other hand back as though you had hit _him_.

"Sorry. I didn't mean..." He sighs shakily before scooting back and pushing himself off the floor. "Where do they keep your clothes?" You look toward him and tilt your head. "Oh, they... Oh. Oh, God." He covers his mouth with his hand to muffle a strangled sob.

You raise yourself slowly and bump his leg with your forehead, trying to comfort him. You don't know why he's so upset, but you don't want him to be. But your action seems to make him even more distressed, so you inch backward and curl up on your side.

After a few moments of silence, John walks carefully around you toward the door. You look up and whine painfully.

John forces an incredibly feeble smile. "I'm not leaving. I just need to find you some clothes. I'll be right back."

You whine again and bring yourself up on all fours.

"I'll be back in a minute. You're hurt--you shouldn't move too much."

You head toward him, slowed significantly by your injuries.

"Dave, stop."

The direct order causes you to freeze instantly. John opens his mouth to say something but closes it again before leaving the room as quickly as he can.

You lie down on your stomach and sigh heavily. The open door taunts you. You can't leave. You can't disobey him. Maybe, if you're good, your new master will come back. So you wait.

And you wait.

You curl up and whimper softly, wondering who will take care of you now. If your old masters were still here, one of them would have come for you by now. You wouldn't mind that. They would punish you, but you would be safe. Maybe they don't want you anymore. Your new master's not coming back. You don't know how to take care of yourself. And you don't know how long you should wait for someone to find you and take care of you. You guess you'll wait forever. It's the only choice you have.

But then, you hear something from the hallway. You pick your head up and see your new master walk through the door, carrying a bundle of fabric. He came back for you. You get up and limp toward him. He meets you halfway, and you nuzzle his leg affectionately. You feel him stroke your hair gently, and you lean up toward his touch. But he snatches his hand away, and you scramble backward before one of your arms gives out and you crumple to the floor.

In a matter of moments, your new master has put something warm and soft around your shoulders and is pulling you toward him. "Sorry, Dave. The blanket was the best I could find." You rest your head on his leg as he awkwardly wraps the blanket around you. When he's finished, he shifts, puts his arms under you, and lifts. You're used to being picked up, but not like this. He holds you close to him, and you lean your head against his chest, burying your face in his shirt and absorbing his scent. The pressure against your back hurts a bit, and you squirm a little. But he presses his lips against your forehead for a moment to relax you before carrying you out of the room.

He's surprisingly strong and doesn't seem at all fatigued by carrying your rather limp weight all the way to the exit. You've seen the door outside before, but you've never been out there. Even with your face still pressed against your master's chest, you know you're getting close. You cling to him and whimper, afraid of what's waiting out there for you. Maybe this was all a set-up. Maybe your old masters are still your masters. Maybe they wanted to test you. Maybe they're out there, waiting. Ready to whip you and throw you out on the street. You cry out and claw at John's chest, trying frantically to get away, but he only holds you tighter.

"It's ok. We're almost out. You're safe. No one out there is going hurt you."

And you believe him. You stop fighting him, but by the time he reaches the open door, you're shaking badly. The cold air hits you, and you press against your master for warmth and comfort, and he kisses your hair lightly. You hear voices, but you try to ignore them, letting your master fill all your senses instead. Someone is talking to him, and he says something back but doesn't stop walking.

After a minute, he leans over, and you feel something soft underneath you. He starts to take his arms out from under you, but you whimper and cling to his shirt.

"I'll be back in a minute. I just have to talk to your brother. Stay here and rest. You'll be home soon." He gives you a small, bittersweet, but genuine smile, and you slowly release your grasp his shirt. After readjusting the blanket around your shoulders, he closes the door, leaving you alone. You curl up, pressing your forehead against the back of the leather seat. You hope he'll be back. You think of his scent and his deep blue eyes as you let exhaustion claim you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Would you like the next chapter to be from John's or Dave's POV? I can't decide, so I'm taking a vote...~~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between the kink meme and AO3, Dave's POV won out by a few votes. I was expecting maybe three, four response, maximum, but... wow, hello, hi there, ya'll~
> 
> I'd always planned to write the majority of the story from Dave's POV with intermittent switches for the sake of exposition and an outside look at Dave's condition. So for those who expressed interest in John's and Dirk's points of view, they're coming, though perhaps not for a bit, since a number of people expressed definite interest in a slower exposition from Dave's POV. ( ~~Which makes it easier on me, since I don't have to speed-plot this thing which has quickly AU'd itself into oblivion. Oops.~~ )
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and for commenting! I'm working simultaneously on a number of fills and requests, and comments are awesome motivation to keep focusing on a fic since I know people are reading it and anticipating the next part.

"Dave?"

Your eyes snap open, and you blink in the sudden bright light. You scramble to get up before your masters can reprimand you for not being awake on time--you're never awake when they want you to be. You whine when you can't manage to sufficiently steady yourself on the soft surface underneath you to rise onto all fours. But in the midst of your frantic movement, you feel a hand placed gently on your arm.

"It's ok! You don't have to get up. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

You look toward the source of the voice and see John sitting on the edge of the double bed you're lying on. Who put you on a bed? Is this a trick? You're not allowed to sleep on beds. The beds are for your masters. You shove your way off the bed and onto the floor, landing beside John's legs on a large rug. You shake, waiting for him to punish you for not getting off the bed right away. But he doesn't.

"Dave!" He immediately gets to the floor and grabs you under the arms, trying to pull you up. You push off the floor with your legs to help him, and when he brings you up to your full height, he keeps holding you up. It takes a moment before you realize he wants you to stand up. You don't remember having walked upright. You weren't allowed to. But it feels natural, and you manage to steady yourself. John hesitantly lets go and looks at you hopefully.

"I guess it's too late for breakfast, so did you want some lunch? I should go grocery shopping soon, but I can make you a sandwich."

You nod, liking the idea of any kind of food that's offered.

"Ok." He looks visibly relieved at the indication that you have an appetite. With the hint of a smile on his face, he starts to leave the room, and you move to follow him. When he turns and notices you're using the bed to prop yourself up as you walk, his smile vanishes. "You stay in bed, and I'll bring it to you."

You give him a bereaved look at the thought of not staying by his side.

He sighs. "I'll be back in ten minutes. I don't want you face-planting or breaking a rib or something."

You whine softly, but he gives you a look that tells you he's not changing his mind. Giving up, you crawl onto the bed. Satisfied, your master smiles and leaves the room.

Still uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping in a bed, you curl up at the foot, nestling comfortably into the blankets. As you situate yourself, you realize they smell like John. You burrow into them, burying your nose in the thick fabric. Despite the fact that he's not physically there, while you're surrounded by his scent, you wait patiently for him to come back.

True to his word, he is back shortly with a plate and a glass of water. He sets the glass down on the bedside table before shoving some of the clutter on the table toward one corner to make room for the plate.

"I don't have a bed tray like they show in movies and stuff, so you're just going to have to eat it carefully. I guess I should get juice or something the next time I go to the store so you're not stuck drinking just water. Maybe some of those gross protein drinks, too. At least they'd help you get your strength back a bit."

You pick yourself up and crawl toward the head of the bed to see what he brought. This looks like something your masters would eat, not something that's acceptable for you. And you always ate and drank out of a dish. You look up at your new master in confusion.

He furrows his brow, not understanding the meaning of your apprehension. But then, his eyes widen in realization. "Don't you remember anything from before they... before they took you?"

You tilt your head. You definitely don't remember anything before your life with your masters--your old masters. It feels like you were always there. But somehow, you remember John. Maybe you weren't always there. Maybe he owned you before they did. What did you do to make him give you up to them? You don't want to remember ever doing anything that would make your master upset with you, so you block out the haze lit by distant flickers of memory. You're not ever going to give him a reason to want to get rid of you again.

So you reach out and grab the sandwich, stuffing the corner into your mouth. You look up at your master, and he smiles at you in relief.

"I guess your manners haven't changed. I guess I should get some paper towels, just in case."

You look at him nervously as he heads for the door again. It seems as though he doesn't have the heart to leave again, and he sighs heavily before seating himself beside you on the bed. You scoot over until you're pressed up against him. He quickly wraps his arm around you before pressing his lips to your hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot is coming, I promise.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short bridge chapter! I'm leaving for con early... this morning, but I wanted to get something out so there isn't a complete dearth of updates until Monday or Tuesday.

After you finish your sandwich (amid many requests from John to slow down), you look up at John to make sure you didn't do anything wrong. He grins at you before reaching over to gently wipe a glob of mustard from the corner of your mouth. His grin fades to a warm smile as he looks you in the eye, and you can't bring yourself to look away the way you know you should. He starts to lean toward you and tilt his head slightly, and you flinch away, on a sudden impulse. But when you realize you put your own comfort over your master's, you curl up on your side, waiting for what you know should be coming.

But he doesn't touch you. You lift your head to look at him, and you see that he has tears running down his cheeks. "I'm sorry." He gives you the saddest smile you've ever seen. "I didn't mean to..." (He struggles to get out the next word.) "scare you." 

If things like this are your punishment when you disobey him or don't give him what he wants, you can see why he doesn't beat you. Seeing your master like this is so much worse. You want to comfort him, but you're not sure if you should. Instead, you venture a soft whine and uncurl yourself somewhat. He not only doesn't look at you, he gets up to leave. You wish you could speak so you could stop him, but you can't make your mouth form words. Instead, you clamber off the bed, propping yourself up as you try to stand upright. You whine loudly at his back in the door frame until he stops walking. It takes him a minute before he turns around to look at you. His gaze is intent and searching, but not harsh, as he scans your face for something. Apparently finding what he was looking for, he looks away and sighs heavily.

"I guess I should get you in the shower. You could really use one. Come on--I'll show you where the bathroom is."

You drop down onto all fours and begin to follow him, but he immediately turns around and looks down at you.

"Dave, can you walk?" he asks quietly. You tilt your head, and he kneels down in front of you and proceeds to pull you up as he did before. "Can you walk like this? Do you remember how?"

You consider for a moment before nodding. He backs up, and you take a couple steps forward to verify before he gives you a small smile and turns to lead the way again. It feels strange, walking like this, but you like it. It makes you feel strong and tall, and you can't help but smile a little at that thought.

When you finish making your way down the hall, your master leads you into a small bathroom. He opens a cabinet under the sink and pulls out a clean towel.

"Soap and shampoo are on the little shelf there, and there's a towel for you when you're done. I'll be back with some clean clothes for you when I can find some that'll fit."

He moves to leave, but you continue standing still in the middle of the room, looking at him expectantly. He raises an eyebrow before stopping short and paling slightly.

"Do you...? Oh. I guess... that would explain some things." He clears his throat, and you look down at your own body, naked except for a pair of boxers John must have put on you. You're covered in blood and bruises and dirt, and you remember that you'd been hoping your old masters would soon get around to bathing you as they did occasionally.

You look back at your master, and for a moment, there is completely clear communication by your facial expressions alone.

He shrugs and closes the door, leaving it open just a crack. He starts to roll up his sleeves but reconsiders, opting to take his shirt off altogether. You push the boxers down and step out of them, leaving them on the floor. Looking up, you notice him facing the corner of the room, talking quietly to the wall.

"You can do this, John. You did this countless times in med school. Yeah, this is _different_ , but it can't be _that_ different. So what if he's--" He seems to notice that you're looking at him and stops short, giving you a sheepish smile before going to turn on the water for the bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised plot. It's coming. I swear.
> 
> Have a dorky John 'til then.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another bridge! I'm having surgery early tomorrow, so I wanted to get something finished before another break of at least a day or two, but I also need some sleep since I have to be up again in 7 hours. orz

You stare at your master's back until he decides the tub is full enough and turns to look at you. He gestures for you to get in the tub, and as you try to lift your leg over the side, you realize you're a little weaker than you thought as you feel yourself start to fall backward. He catches you immediately with both his arms around your torso and steadies you. His arms remain around you as you ease yourself down into the water. The water is a bit colder than you expected, but he waits patiently for you to acclimate yourself enough to sit down before taking his arms from around you.

The water stings your raw wounds, and when it gets to be too much, you move to get up and out of the water. But your master's hand on your shoulder prevents you. You look up at him, surprised he would allow you to be in pain.

"I know it stings. Sorry. I'll try to go as quickly as I can. You still seem kind of disoriented, and I don't want you to hit your head or something trying to navigate the tub to wash yourself." He laughs nervously. "I guess I probably just worry too much. But better safe than sorry."

You look at him as he takes your hand in his and holds your arm out, dousing it in water before he rubs the bar of soap up and down your arm. Your arm has only a few scratches and bruises, and he washes and rinses it gently enough so that it doesn't hurt. He follows with the other arm, then your shoulders and neck. You flinch when he touches the soap to your chest which is covered in bruises and shallow gashes.

"Sorry, sorry. If I don't wash them, they'll get worse, you know."

His touch is gentle, and you allow him to finish without further protest. Next, he begins to scrub your legs, black and blue with bruises. He leans over the side of the tub to make sure that his job is thorough, though he avoids even looking at your groin. The one time you do see him glance at it, he reddens immediately and takes a sharp breath in as though he knows what's coming, and he doesn't like it.

When he's scrubbed from your hips to your feet, he shifts to fill his cupped hands with water and pour it over your wound-laced back. You gasp in pain before emitting a low growl. John jumps back, snatching his hands away from you as though he finds you threatening. But that doesn't make any sense to you. He's your master, and you wouldn't hurt him. You didn't mean to do anything that would scare him; it's just the way you've learned to react to pain. So you look down at your hands before bending over with your nose nearly touching the water to give him better access to your back.

After a minute, you feel yourself being pulled upward from your shoulders. He leaves you leaning over slightly but not so close to the water as you had been. As he rubs your back with soap and water, you gasp in pain several times when he hits particularly sensitive lacerations. But you keep yourself from growling for what seems like an eternity until he finally finishes rinsing off your back.

He shuffles around again and looks anywhere but at you. He picks up the bar of soap again and clears his throat. But before he can speak, there's a loud mechanical ringing from another room. You nearly jump out of the water, and John jolts in surprise. You're getting worried, but your master quickly calms down and sighs.

He's about to get up before realizing he's still holding the bar of soap. After looking at it, then at you, he takes your hand and places the soap in it. "You should be fine to wash your... the part I didn't, right?"

It takes you a moment to realize he's waiting for an answer. You look down, then back up at him before nodding.

He smiles in relief and stands up. "I'll be right back." He purses his lips. "I think I know who's at the door, anyway."

You tilt your head.

"Don't worry. If I can't kick him out, I'll at least keep him from slicing the door off its hinges while you're in the tub." He grins wryly before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, I'm back--and I bring you plot. \o/ Thanks for the well-wishes on my surgery. Everything went ok, and I'm still kind of recovering, but I'm addicted to writing this...

You hear a door open, and two voices immediately begin talking. One is John's, the other you don't recognize. They're talking too quietly for you to hear, so you finish washing yourself as John asks, using the way he washed the rest of you as a model. But after a few minutes, the voices have become louder and closer, and you lean toward the door to listen.

"What the fuck made you think I wouldn't want to see my own brother? He's my responsibility, and I've known him his whole life. Why should you get to keep him here?"

"I've known him almost his whole life! He's my best friend, even if he doesn't remember it. Besides, I'm a doctor. I went to school for eight years to learn how to handle this kind of stuff!"

"Like your ER shift won't keep you out of the house all the time."

"I've got enough vacation time to take this week off. I'm going to try to ask for shifts when he's sleeping--he sleeps a lot. But if he's not well enough by the time I have to go back to work, I'm sure Jade can help look out for him. Besides, you and Jake work crazy hours, too! You wouldn't be home all day, but I could probably swing some night shifts."

"John, you're going to kill yourself trying to do all of this. Just let me take care of him."

"It doesn't matter what happens to me! I owe him this."

"Like I don't? It took me eight fucking years to find him."

"Please, Dirk. Please let me take care of him here. If it doesn't go as well as I think it will to have him here, I'll let you take him. Ok?"

The other voice is silent for a moment. "At least let me see him, John."

"Well, he's, uh... He's in the tub at the moment."

"I saw him the day he was born. Can't get much more naked than that."

Something presses up against the door of the bathroom, and you lean over to look and see if the threatened slicing of door hinges is about to take place.

"At least let me get a robe on him! Just because he doesn't remember he's human doesn't mean he shouldn't be treated like one."

The mass leaning against the door presses itself further into it, making you wonder if the door isn't just going to collapse on its own.

"If you think I don't care about--"

"I'm not saying that you don't! I'm just-- Just let me get him in a robe or something. Please?"

After a few moments, the door opens, and your master speeds in before shutting the door behind him. He leans against it for a moment, before turning around to pull a thick blue robe off the hook on the back of the door. After setting it down on the counter, he kneels down next to the tub and puts his hands under your armpits, carefully hauling you up. He keeps holding onto you as you step out of the tub, still a bit wobbly. He helps you move over to lean against the wall as he gets the robe and holds it out to you.

"Sorry, I only have one robe, so you'll just have to wear mine until I can get you one. Just put your arm in the sleeve--yeah, there you go."

You turn, bracing yourself against the wall, and put your other arm into the warm robe. He turns you back to face him and tucks the robe around you before tying the cloth belt in a knot. He smiles at you, satisfied with his work. As he guides you to sit on the toilet (after he closes the lid with an apology, muttering something about a "bachelor pad"), you catch a whiff of the robe. It smells like soap and cologne and _John_. You turn to press your nose into the collar of the soft cloth, and as he helps you lower yourself to sit, you feel completely calm, wrapped in John's scent.

You turn to him as he crouches down to look you in the eye. "I'm not sure how this is going to go, but your brother's here to see you. Just remember that he's here because he cares about you--even if he does kind of a shitty job of showing it." He smiles and starts to stand up, but you catch a hold of the fabric of his pants before he can walk away. He looks down at you kindly. "I'll be here the whole time, ok?"

You let go of him and look down at the floor. He kisses you hair before going to open the door.

You look over at the figure standing there, peering in at you. He's wearing a uniform and dark, pointed glasses. He isn't as tall as John, but his stance and his clothing make him much more intimidating. You shrink down and look at John for reassurance. He smiles at you in reassurance, but as the man comes toward you, you start looking for ways to escape if he tries anything.

But he stops about a foot away from you and crouches down to look at you. You can't see his eyes, and that unnerves you. It's like when your old masters would wear masks or blindfold you to confuse you while they would all take you at once. You whine pitifully as you curl up, trying to protect yourself from the memory.

"John, what's--"

"Take of your shades. I think they're scaring him."

Still curled into yourself, your knees drawn up to your chest and your face buried in them, the scent of John manages to calm you down enough so that you can hear a small click of something being set down on the counter nearby. You feel a hand on your back. You know it's not John's--it's more hesitant and less soothing. But it rubs your back until your breathing returns to normal and you turn to look at the person it belongs to. It's the man in the uniform, his eyes now uncovered to reveal bright orange irises. You tilt your head, trying to figure out why you recognize him. It's the same vague, uncertain recognition you have with John. He doesn't give you a warm feeling the way John does, but you feel safe with him anyway.

He turns to look at John. "Has he spoken yet?"

"Only dog noises."

The man next to you cringes. "Do you think he remembers me?"

Your master shrugs. "He didn't really remember me. I think they brainwashed him somehow."

The man sighs heavily before turning back to you. "Sorry it took me so fucking long to find you, bro. You didn't deserve the shit that place put you through. But they're dead and gone--Jake and I made sure of that." He searches your face for a moment, but you can't tell from his lack of expression whether or not he found what he was looking for. "Since it seems that you've forgotten everything before those fuckers took you, I'm Dirk. I'm your brother--older by three years. I'm sorry it took me so long to find you. I hoped becoming a police inspector would be able to help me push the case forward, but by the time I got onto the force, it was a cold case. So I had to--"

"Dirk, I don't think he knows what you're talking about. And it might not be best to lay all this on him right away."

"Yeah." Dirk goes silent but continues looking at you and rubbing your upper back gently enough not to irritate your wounds too much. You bump your cheek against his raised arm affectionately, and he raises an eyebrow in surprise. He turns to John who gives him a humorless smile. Dirk turns back to you and puts his arm around your shoulder to briefly hold you closer to him. "You're safe here. John will take care of you. And if he doesn't, I'll gut him myself."

John rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"No problem." He releases you and stands up, picking up his glasses before walking over to John. They exchange glances before Dirk puts his hands on John's shoulders. But John isn't satisfied with that, and he pulls Dirk into a hug that Dirk, after managing to get over his initial surprise, reciprocates.

"If you need anything, call Jake and me. You have our home and work numbers. You don't have to do all of this by yourself."

John nods against Dirk's shoulder before releasing him. He ruffles John's hair before looking back at you briefly, then putting his glasses back on and turning to leave.

Your master watches him walk down the hall before turning back to you. "Ok, let's see if any of my clothes fit you. Sound good?"

You tilt your head, surprised. Even the robe is more than you remember ever wearing. But if your master wants you to wear clothes--his clothes, even--you'll obey his wishes. He comes over to help you up and begins to lead you out of the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom secret: I ship John♦Dirk pretty hard. Fuck yeah, rare pair palemances. \o/ So if you're worried something is going on there romantically... it's not.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing another story within this AU called Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder. It's DirkJake that begins less that begins less than a year before they find Dave and follows what their lives are like both as they track him down and after they manage to rescue him. It's not necessary reading to understand IYLD, but if you'd like to see the story from their perspectives (Dirk's, in particular), you can check that out on [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/425342) or [tumblr](http://oldthymerhyming.tumblr.com/tagged/absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder/chrono).
> 
> EDIT: If you read this in the first two minutes it was posted... read it again because I forgot to paste in the first half... orz

After John drains and rinses the tub, you return to the bedroom. He guides you to sit down on the bed while he sits beside you. He unties the belt on the robe you're wearing and helps you work your arm out of the sleeve. But as he starts to pull it around your back to free your other arm, you whimper in pain. He speeds up, peeling the robe off your back and slipping it off your arm. Pulling himself farther onto the bed to look at your back, he gasps.

"Oh, man, that looks a lot worse now that I can actually see it." He gingerly places his hands on your arms and turns you slightly so he can get a better view. "It looks slightly infected, but we can take care of that. What did they use to... do this? A whip?"

His voice is quiet, but you curl into yourself when you think about the way they punished and the way your new master could punish you if you needed it. You pull your feet onto the bed and draw you knees up to your chest and shake.

John rubs your arm comfortingly. "I just need to know if they used anything with metal," he says quietly. "Did they?"

You eventually bring yourself to shake your head, and you hear him sigh.

"Thank goodness. Though a tetanus shot probably wouldn't be a bad idea." He kisses your hair and continues rubbing your arm, making soothing noises, until your shaking subsides. Then, he slides off the bed and crouches in front of you, looking you in the eye.

"I'm going to go grab a couple things. It might take me a little while to find them, but I'll be back really soon. Just stay here--you can lie down, if you want."

You blink at him.

"Or not. Whatever you want to do. I'll be right back, though, ok?"

You look at him, and after a moment, he straightens up and leaves the room, keeping the door open.

\-----

As you rummage through the boxes in the bathroom linen closet in search of supplies to take care of Dave's wounds, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You groan and sit down on the tile floor to pull your phone out of your pocket. It's Rose.

Between her girlfriend's fashion show and her own book tour, you haven't talked to Rose in months. Yet it somehow doesn't surprise you that she's probably already gotten word about her brother. They're an unusual family.

"Hi, Rose. This really isn't a good--"

"Hello, John. I understand you're taking care of my brother."

"Yes, and--"

"How is he?"

You sigh, knowing you can't get out of giving her at least a brief summary of the situation. "He's doing... ok, I guess."

"'Ok, you guess?'"

"Dirk didn't tell you...?"

"Tell me what?"

"He hasn't said anything, and he..."

"Yes, John?"

You close your eyes tightly. "I can't even say it. I don't think I could if I tried."

"If you're worried that you're somehow going to shock me, you're not. I'm intimately aware of how long he's been gone, and Dirk has informed me that his captors essentially forced him into prostitution. No one would believe that he could escape unscathed."

You take a deep breath. "He hasn't spoken at all. He just makes these sort of animal noises, and he keeps doing things like... like he's a dog."

Rose is silent, but now that you've started, you have to keep going.

"Rose, they beat him and wouldn't let him wear clothes and kept him in a cage and made him eat out of a dog dish and--"

"John, stop." When Rose interrupts you, you realize that you're nearly shouting, and tears are running down your cheeks. You cover your mouth to hold back a sob. "John, it's over. He's safe now. It will take time, but he will recover. The most effective thing you can do is arm yourself with patience and stay with him. He'll be vulnerable for some time, so I suggest that you have someone available if you cannot get your work shifts to line up in such a way that you can spend a good portion of his waking hours with him each day. It would be dangerous to expose him to too many people, but the thing that is most vital for him right now is human contact from someone he trusts. This will be neither a short nor easy process, so if you need me at any time, don't hesitate to call."

"Thanks, Rose."

"Also, I have a week off early next month, and though I promised Kanaya a brief getaway, we agreed that it would be better to visit you and my brothers. I might be able to put my degree to use for something besides psychoanalyzing everyone who asks me to sign my book, wondering what it is that went awry enough with their cognition that they felt the need to buy a copy."

You laugh quietly. "Missing the daily grind of having a practice?"

"The yearning for it torments me every morning when I bathe in my pool of book royalties."

You laugh again, more brightly. "It's a hard-- Oh, shit, I told Dave I would be right back! I have to go--I'll talk with you later!"

"Take care of yourself, John."

"I will. Bye, Rose!"

You end the call and shove the phone back into your pocket before frantically rooting through the closet again. After another minute of searching, you find the box you're looking for: one filled with gauze, antiseptic, medical tape, and other supplies. You snatch it up and close the closet door before racing back to your bedroom, hoping that Dave hasn't started to panic.


	9. Chapter 9

Your master has been gone what feels like an awfully long time. Your mind is starting to race with all kinds of terrible possibilities. Is he coming back? Is he safe? Even if he doesn't come back for you, you hope that he's safe. But suddenly, you hear John shouting from elsewhere in the house. You start to get up, but then you remember he ordered you not to get up. So you stay put, shaking in fear and frustration. You feel yourself start to hyperventilate, and you whine softly, waiting and hoping for him to return. For what seems like hours, you stare at the open door as though your expecting him can will him to come back.

When you do finally hear footsteps, your shaking only increases with anticipation, not knowing if it's your master or if the pleasant dream is over, and one of your old masters is coming to take you away. But when John appears in the doorway, your eyes light up.

"Sorry, Dave! Rose called--your sister. She's worried about you--and me, I guess, but mostly you."

When he comes to sit down beside you, you're still shaky, but you lean over to lick his cheek to show how glad you are that he's safe and that he's back. But he flinches away, and you curl up as though he hit you. You're about to vow to yourself never to do that again when he reaches up to stroke your hair hesitantly. You raise your head into his touch and close your eyes. But after a moment, his hand is gone, and you feel him crawl up onto the bed behind you. When you hear a snapping sound, you jump and turn your head to see John putting on gloves and opening a small bottle.

"It's ok, Dave--it's just me. I'm just going to make sure these wounds are clean and put some gauze over them since they're bleeding kind of badly." He laughs nervously. "Nothing to worry about, though!" You look at him blankly as he takes out a small pad and dampens it with whatever is in the bottle. "This is all standard stuff--I'm a doctor, so it's just kind of force of habit. But better safe than sorry! I don't want you getting sick, especially while you're still kind of fragile." He reaches his hand toward your back, and you instinctively flinch away. "Just stay still. It's going to sting, but it'll help."

You turn your head forward and look down, steeling yourself against the pain you know is coming. Sure enough, in a moment, the nerves in your back send shockwaves through your body. You whimper as he wipes the stuff across your wounds as gently as he can.

"I know it hurts. Just stay still. I'm almost done."

He takes his hand away occasionally to get a new, damp piece before returning to sweeping it across your back. After what seems like much too long, he stops, and you hear him cutting something soft.

"I'm going to put some gauze on to protect the wounds while they're still open. This won't hurt."

You sigh in relief, and tension leaves your body. That's one thing you like about your new master: He tells you everything he's doing. He wants you to know what he's doing and why he's doing it, and he always says it so carefully--like he's telling you because he doesn't want you to be scared. It's impossible for you not to be scared, but he just seems so kind. You don't remember ever experiencing this much patience and gentleness before, and it's overwhelming.

"There--all finished."

Just like he said, neither the gauze nor the tape he uses to secure it hurt, and you breathe more easily. But suddenly, you feel his hands grasp your arms. Instinctively, you're about to try to get away, but then you feel his lips press against your shoulder. Warmth floods you, and you relax.

"I'm so sorry, Dave. I wish I had done everything differently. Then, maybe you wouldn't be sitting here like this, unable to speak and not able to remember your own family and friends and with cuts across your back and..." He trails off, gripping your arms tightly as he sobs against your shoulder.

His distress is making you very nervous and shaky, and you want to do anything you can to get rid of it. You manage to pry your arms out of his grasp so you can turn around. You nuzzle his cheek and neck until he puts his arms around your neck. He holds you so close that you feel like you're drowning in him, but you find it comforting. You're not sure how to spread that comfort back to him, so you just let him hold you. He murmurs things you don't understand, and when a particularly horrifying sob comes, you nuzzle him as best you can while being clamped in his arms. His distress terrifies you, but you want so badly to be close to him and be of use to him that you don't move until he's finished crying.

It feels like it's been hours when he finally releases you. When he pulls back, he looks at you with that sadness you don't understand, and you venture to lick his cheek again. He doesn't flinch away this time, but he look even sadder. You whimper at your inability to be of use to him, but then he smiles gently at you.

"It's not your fault. I just wish everything had been different. But it's too late now, and I'll just have to figure out how to make do. But having you back..." He touches your cheek with his fingertips, and you lean into the touch. "That's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

He gives you the most sincere smile you've ever seen, and you somehow feel the corners of your lips turn upward in response. John seems to notice, because his grin only widens. After he just looks at you for a moment, he starts to clear the supplies he brought off the bed. When he's placed them all carefully back in the box and moves the box to a corner of the room, he turns back to you.

"After all that, how about some dinner?"

You nod.

"I'm probably going to regret this, considering how shitty you always were at it, but did you want to help me cook?"

You're on your feet in an instant, and he laughs, shaking his head.

"All right, come on."

You follow him out of the bedroom and down the hall. If it means you get to stay close to your master, you'd do anything.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay... This was actually supposed to be a longer chapter, but I figured better get half of it out sooner than delay more.

When you reach the kitchen, John turns around, about to say something when he looks at you and reddens. You tilt your head in confusion, and he bites his lip and looks anywhere but directly at you.

"I'm going to go get you some boxers. Maybe not a shirt--I don't want to take any chances with your back yet. But definitely time for boxers."

He quickly leaves the kitchen, and you follow after him slowly, still not at full strength. By the time you reach the bedroom, he's rummaging around in the top drawer of his dresser. You walk over and crouch down next to him, nuzzling his arm. After a few moments, he pulls out a pair of red and black plaid boxers and holds them out to you.

"Your favorite color and everything. You can sit on the bed to put them on. You, uh... you do know how to do that, right?"

You take the boxers from John's hands and decide to answer his question by just pulling them on. He smiles in relief before gesturing to the door again. You carefully make your way back to the kitchen, and when you arrive, John immediately pulls over a chair from the table. He gestures for you to sit down, and you do so, relieved.

"You're looking kind of pale, so maybe I'll just heat up some soup or some leftovers, and we'll call it a day. Sound good?"

He looks at you, and you nod when you realize he expects a response. With a quick smile, he turns and opens a cabinet, scanning its contents before selecting a can.

"How about cream of potato? You always liked that when my dad made it. His was usually from scratch, but the canned stuff isn't too bad. Is that ok, Dave?"

You nod again, and he sets the can down next to the stove before starting to rummage through a different cabinet. When he moves away, you squint at the can, and you're surprised to realize that you can understand the markings on the can--you can _read_ them. You haven't read anything since before your old masters owned you (you're starting to accept that there must have been a "before"), so this soup can is like a massive mental buffet for your brain. Then, you look around, over the counter toward the living room, and you realize the soup can is just the most inadequate of appetizers compared the ten-course meal that's about to get served up. The walls are lined with bookcases which are filled with all shapes and sizes of books. You remember liking books. You tilt your head to read the words on the edges of the large books on one shelf.

"Those are my medical textbooks. They're gross and boring--you don't want to read those." You turn to look at your master as he puts a pot on the stove. He turns and picks up the can before suddenly freezing. In a moment, he spins to look at you. "Wait, you want to read something?"

You pause before nodding slowly, unsure if his tone means that he's upset with you for wanting that. Your old masters didn't allow it after all. But maybe your new master is different.

"Then maybe you can write, too! Can you, Dave?"

You tilt your head, startled by his sudden excitement and unsure of what he wants you to do.

He goes over to a drawer and rifles through it before hurrying back to place a pencil and a pad of paper in front of you. You look up at him blankly, and he picks up the pencil himself and starts to spell something out, saying the letters as he does so.

"D-A-V-E S-T-R-I-D-E-R."

He turns the paper toward you and gives you the pencil, gesturing for you to copy what he wrote. You don't really want to write, but you will if your master wants you to. But you don't want to write that. So instead, you spell out J-O-H-N... and you can't remember the rest. You look up at him nervously, and he grins at you, his eyes full of warmth.

"Egbert. John Egbert. It sounds so dramatic when I say it like that."

He laughs, and something possesses you to roll your eyes at his words. But you remember that sort of thing warranting punishment with your old masters, so you drop the pencil and look away as quickly as you can, shaking slightly.

But your new master just laughs. "I saw that eye rolling--don't think you can hide it!"

He comes to stand behind you, leaning down so he can place his hand over yours and his chin on your shoulder. Gripping the pencil in both your hands, he starts to write.

"E-G-B-E-R-T. Not too hard, right?"

He moves away, and you don't like not having his warmth close to you. But your stomach is starting to feel empty again, and he's the one who can make food. You'll settle for having him in your sight. But before he goes back to preparing dinner, he looks at you and opens his mouth to speak. But he seems to think better of it and closes his mouth again for a moment, his expression shifting to a more somber one. After a moment, some levity returns, though still colored a bit by seriousness.

"Rose will probably want to talk with you, so if you aren't speaking when she comes, she'll want you to write, if you can. But when it's just us, you don't have to if you don't want to. If you want something, you can write it down and show me so I know what you're asking for. But I understand you well enough, I think. So don't push yourself."

You nod, happy that your master understands and doesn't want to pressure you. You're surprised John would want to be your master; your old masters said you were only good for "taking dicks and beatings." They told you that a lot. But you were glad you were good for something. But John doesn't seem to want to do either of those to you, and you don't know why he wants to keep you, since you aren't good for anything else. And you don't want him to find that out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On pause until September!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By September, I meant October.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I posted this in response to a question on the last chapter, and I thought it might help to include it here, too:
> 
> "Their ages haven't been explicitly stated, but I have no problem sharing them if it helps alleviate confusion. John is a bit less than a year out of med school, placing him about age 26. He and Dave are about the same age, the few additional months making Dave 27. Dirk and Jake are both 30. Tracing it back, Dave was taken at the age of 19 after his and John's first year of college. At that point, Dirk and Jake had just graduated from college."

John chatters animatedly throughout the meal, meaning that it takes quite a while before he finally finishes his dinner and gets up to dump all the dishes into the sink.

"I'll just take care of that tomorrow." He makes a face at the dirty dishes before sitting down at the table again. He looks at you with the same expression of sorrow, nervousness, and pity he's had all day. It's something totally new to you; your old masters never looked at you like you were any more important than a particularly juicy hamburger. But your new master is so different. You have to prove to him that you're worth all the effort and kindness he's shown you.

Just as you decide exactly what you're going to do, your master yawns, stretches, and gets up from his chair again. "Why don't we head to bed, Dave? I should be able to call off work tomorrow if I can fake sick well enough--which I can, obviously." He grins at you and comes over to put his arm around your shoulder to steady you as you stand up. "Not that I don't trust your brother or my relatives," he says as you slowly proceed to the bedroom together, "I just think I'm the best for the job." As he continues talking all the way through changing the bloody, dirty sheets to clean ones, carefully getting you into bed, and padding you with pillows, you try to remember if John was always this talkative. You aren't positive, but you're pretty sure he was.

"If there's anything you need, just shout or come get me. I'll just be on the couch in the living room."

He isn't staying with you? You whimper and look at him anxiously. There's a window in this room. They could get in. They could take you away from your master. Then, he'd be upset. And you would deserve all the beatings he'd give you when he found you again since you couldn't prevent them from stealing you.

You claw at the sheets and whine, and John looks at you with such alarm that you fear what he's going to do next. You curl up and move away from him as he approaches. He stops short when he sees that you're shaking and slowly sits down on the edge of the bed.

"Did you want me to stay? I guess we can both fit in the bed, but it's going to be kind of tight quarters."

You blink at him and wait.

"Ok, let me get my pajamas on, then. Hang on."

He digs some boxers and a shirt out of his dresser and proceeds to leave the room again, holding up his hands to show that you should stay put. You manage to stay calm for the couple minutes that he's gone, and he seems relieved when he returns to see you still breathing normally. He climbs into bed next to you and pulls the blankets over you both before turning to look at you. His deep blue eyes are mesmerizing. There's so much emotion in them, and they make you wish you could recall the hazy memories from before your old masters. He gently wraps his arm around your waist and yawns, and you forget about your plan entirely as you curl up in his arms.

\---------------------

You're asleep, then awake again before you even realize it. You can always sleep, somehow, though you remember times when they wouldn't even let you--when they were trying to break you. But you never feel rested. It's as though you stopped existing for a while, then come back no different from how you were before.

Before you can fully wake up, something shifts beside you--John. Your idea comes back to you. You have to prove you're worth his kindness. You can be useful. He doesn't have to hurt you for you to give him what he wants--what everyone wants.

"Morning, Dave," he murmurs as he stretches and yawns.

When you lick his lips, he flinches away before seeming to realize you're being affectionate, but he still seems unsure of what to do. But that's ok. You can take the lead. Shifting slightly, you run your tongue down his neck and reach for his boxers. You stroke his length through his boxers, and he shivers.

"Dave..." he says shakily.

You reach lower to cup his balls. This is the one thing you can do. You can prove that you're worth keeping. You can prove that you're worth something. You--

"Dave, no, stop!"

Your master pushes you away and scrambles out of bed. You scramble off the bed and curl up behind it, waiting for punishment. You don't know what you did, but you don't want to ever do it again. You thought you did it right. But maybe your new master doesn't like the same things as your old masters did. You made a mistake. You're sorry. You're so, so sorry. But you can't tell him that. You're afraid to even whimper to show him that you didn't mean to upset him, in case that would make it worse.

You don't look up, but you hear him try to choke back a sob before he walks out of the bedroom and closes the door behind him.


	12. Chapter 12

Your name is Dirk Strider, and even though it’s only been about 24 hours since you last saw Dave, you can’t help but worry. He's so far from being himself, and you're afraid not just for him but for John as well. He's taken it hard since the beginning, but now that he can actually see the damage and how much worse it is than even you expected, you know it'll be hard for him to cope. Since Dave disappeared, he and Jake have been your closest friends. Every time you just needed someone to talk with about your brother, you called John. You've gotten pretty close, over the years, and you hope that your frustrated outburst yesterday wasn't enough to affect your friendship much.

But regardless, you spent most of your work day wondering what to do about the two of them. You've kept the story away from the media pretty well, but even without that catastrophic detriment to the situation, it's only a matter of time before something goes awry. Rose can't get home soon enough. For that matter, neither can Roxy--especially if she brings some of her award-winning microbrews; you could use some of that stuff. You never thought you'd see the day when Roxy started drinking anything but mixed drinks, but you think being with Jane domesticated her quite a bit. And since she's no longer perpetually drunk, you consider inviting her to visit after Rose does. She and Dave always got along, and her affectionate manner would likely coax Dave along better than your and Rose's less hands-on approaches. And so you decide, before leaving your office for the day to go visit John's apartment, to call your less somber sister.

"Roxy?"

"Dirk! How are you? Is everything ok? You never call me this often." She laughs cheerfully, but you know that her concern is sincere.

"Yeah, we're fine. But I thought you might want to visit sometime soon."

"I thought you didn't want Dave around people. That it would be too much of a shock or something."

"Family is different. And we need to get him used to people gradually, or he's never going to get back to the way he was. You always had a way with him, even when he was little."

"Well, when you put it like that, how can a girl say no? I have to check with the little woman before I commit, though. You know how it is. One sec." You expect her to put down the phone and go look for Jane, but you are reminded, rather jarringly, that you should never think you know what to expect from her. "JANE! YOU HERE, JANEY?" she yells, inches from the receiver. "I guess she's out shopping or something. I can ask when she gets home and call you back, if you want."

You take a moment to recover, making sure you retained most of your hearing. "I don't know when I'll be home tonight, so give me a call tomorrow, if you can."

"No problem-o. Don't go too crazy with this, Dirk. You can't fix everything all the time, so don't sweat it when things don't go perfectly."

"I know." You're sensing one of her prolonged metaphors approaching, and you already have somewhere you need to be. "I have to go. Thanks for agreeing to come."

"Sure--keep me updated on Dave. And take care of yourself!"

"You, too, Roxy."

As soon as you hang up, you grab your bag and jacket and head out the door. You poke your head into Jake's office as you pass.

"Hey, Jake."

He looks up and smiles at you. "Yes, Strider?"

"I should be home before 8, but if you get hungry, don't wait for me."

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with? For moral support and all that?"

"I'll be fine. Too many people might stress him--you especially."

"Me?" Jake gives you a hurt look. "Why me?"

"Your response to quiet people is to talk in a constant stream so that no one can get a word in edgewise, even to tell you to shut up."

"Now that's just unfair. I do it to make them feel comfortable!"

"Yes, that always works out well, doesn't it." Jake opens his mouth to protest, but you're already behind schedule. "I really have to go, Jake. I'll see you later."

"Ok, ok. Don't be home too late, or you'll be the one leaping out of bed when Julius starts causing a ruckus at three in the morning!"

You sigh heavily. You love Jake's puppy, but he doesn't understand that people sleep and do not live to get up, get dressed, corral him, and take him out to pee before dawn. "Fine. See you, English."

You hurry out to your car and belatedly wonder if you should have called John before inviting yourself over. Oh well. He'll find out when you show up.

\---------------------------------

Your name is Dave Strider, as you've been told, and you've been huddled behind your master's bed for what feels like ages, yet not long enough. You're turned toward the closet with your legs pulled up against your chest and your forehead pressed against your knees. Your master brought you food a few hours ago, saying that he was sorry it was late but it could be brunch, and that he was sorry and didn't mean to upset you but he didn't know what to do and that he'd like it if you could forgive him and that when you were ready, you should come out of the bedroom, but that he wouldn't force you.

You still haven't moved. With your old masters, you often had to ask for forgiveness, but you don't know how to show that you forgive him. The whole idea just doesn't register as making sense. But John has asked this of you, and you can't let him down.

While you're in the midst of trying to figure out what to do, you hear voices from the other room. John's voice is not among them, and neither are your old masters', but they sound angry. The sound paralyzes you for a moment before you realize that John might be in the middle of it. You can't let anyone hurt him, especially since you haven't even done what he asked yet. You use the bed to brace yourself as you stand up, your whole body aching as you do so. Moving quietly, you leave the bedroom and head for the living room where the sound originates. But to your surprise, no one is there. Instead, you see John, sitting on the couch with his back to you, watching television. On the screen, you see two people in hysterics, screaming at each other. You wonder why anyone, much less John, would want to watch something like that. It makes you a bit shaky, just listening. But you remind yourself that John is expecting to be forgiven, and now that you're halfway there, you have to try.

As you approach the couch, trying to shut out the noise, John turns around, apparently having heard you. He smiles at you nervously before turning off the TV. You sigh in relief at the silence and have to move closer to prop yourself up against the couch back.

"Sorry if the TV disturbed you. Soaps are pretty much the only thing on during the day, but they're not really a good re-introduction to normal life. Did you, uh... want to sit down?" He moves over on the couch and pats the empty seat next to him. You sit down beside him and resume the position you held for most of the day beside the bed.

"I'm sorry about this morning, Dave. I was kind of shocked, I guess. I don't want you to have to do stuff like that anymore. You don't need to please anyone except yourself. Ok, that came out a little awkward with the connotation, but you get the point, right? You're not some sick asshole's pet anymore. I know what you did isn't your fault. Sorry I overreacted."

Some of what he says doesn't entirely make sense to you, but you know that you want nothing more than to comfort him. You can tell he doesn't like it when you lick his cheek when you're trying to show affection, so instead, you opt for scooting next to him and gently nudging his cheek with your nose. Immediately, John turns and wraps his arms tightly around you and buries his face against your shoulder. When he doesn't say anything further, you bring your arms around him and rest them there. You close your eyes, letting the feeling of comfort wash over you. This just feels so right. Like it should always have been this way. Forgetting yourself for a moment, you tighten your arms around him, pulling him closer. But before you have the time to think about the consequences of your being selfish, John settles against you and pulls you closer, too. You feel tears seep through the shoulder of your shirt, and suddenly, tears sting your eyes as well. You start to shake a little, remembering what they did to you when you cried, but just as you're about to pull him closer, he moves away.

You look at him, startled, until you feel his hand brush against your cheek. He must have purposely moved slowly and carefully so that he wouldn't startle you. He wipes the tears from your cheek with his thumb and looks at you gently.

"Dave, I wish--"

John is quickly interrupted by a knock on the door. He sighs and, disentangling himself from your arms, gets up to go to the door. The voice you hear when he opens it is familiar--it's the person who visited yesterday. He's not as kind as your master is. You wish he hadn't come.


	13. ENDING SUMMARY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following is the summary of what would have transpired through the conclusion of the fic, had I been able to finish it.
> 
> **It is not a true chapter. It's written as just what it is: a relatively informal summary.**

In the next chapter, Dirk would have brought Dave his ipod, restoring a little more semblance of Dave’s previous self by rediscovering the music he wrote, as well as a piano piece John had recorded for him. And there would be some brother bonding over music, of course.

Over time, Dave would start to speak a bit, but only ever to John, at first. By the time Rose and Kanaya came to visit, Dave would be occasionally forming full sentences in talking to John. Rose would take Dave into a room alone to assess how he was doing. Afterward, she would urge John to continue to be patient and re-introduce him to things slowly.

Over the next several weeks, Dave would improve quite a bit, starting to watch TV and mess around with some of John’s composition software as well as speaking more frequently.

Eventually, it would get to the point where he and John were having full conversations and they could go on short walks around the neighbourhood. Over time, Dave would start to have healthier romantic feelings for John, which are very much reciprocated. One particular evening, they would indulge in the contents of a very NSFW chapter, taking things slowly and carefully, of course.

But the morning after they woke up, Dave would have remembered what happened before his kidnapping—including the day of the kidnapping: He and John were home on break, and they’d gone out for drinks together. Dave had always had some feelings for John, but that night, he got drunk enough to tell John about them. And while John had some inkling of his own feelings for Dave, he hadn’t acknowledged them, much less come to terms with them, so he ended up rejecting Dave. And Dave, being completely embarrassed and upset, stormed out of the bar and got lost, ending up in some alley. And that’s where the people who kidnapped him found him, halfway to blacking out.

And after recalling all that, Dave is completely overwhelmed with everything he now knows, lashes out at John for rejecting him and then blaming him for what happened. John, of course, had already spent the last few years blaming himself, so he doesn’t have the heart to stop Dave from leaving to go stay with Dirk instead. Dirk takes Dave in and calms him down, letting him stay there a while to recover. But after a while, he sees that Dave isn’t going to deal with this constructively without a push, so he drags him off to see John, knowing that they both have feelings for each other, regardless of what might have happened.

When Dirk has them both sitting down together, he insists that John would never have let anything like that happen to Dave and tells him that, even when Dirk thought it was hopeless, John never stopped hoping that they’d find Dave. And of course, Dave knew that, deep down. And he and John kiss and make up and live happily ever after, the end.


End file.
